


Tout Oublier

by ColorZPrincezZ



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Godness, Alternate Universe - Religious Theme, Gen, God Tony Stark, King Peter Parker, M/M, Mention of Death, Priest Quentin Beck, and Beck is a little creepy, its more angst than what i originally intended, this was supposed to be short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorZPrincezZ/pseuds/ColorZPrincezZ
Summary: Peter prays to a God he doesn’t believe in.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Kudos: 24





	Tout Oublier

**_ Tout Oublier  _ **

_ Well, they say at first light, some Gods move on _

_ The sun beats down, _

_ And we grow old.  _

The dirt underneath his bare feet was warm and rusty. He had been walking long before the sunrise reached the back of his neck and were able to smooth his skin in liquid glitter. The streets were lonely and calmed while the cool summer breeze sang in his ears in harmony of the chipping crickets. 

Curious shadows trailed his way ahead, by the time the temple came in view. 

The fountain flooded water in the pond with the Lilies swimming quietly. It was late at night or early morning, he wasn’t sure how to call it but either way he sinked in the stillness around the air. A steady feeling. 

The stairs of the temple felt cold at his touch and a cautious tremble shook his body, it was a while since he had been alone, by himself in peace. He usually spend his time at the gardens or the libraries of the realm, the City was vast and rich with evergreen and life. If only he could live his own life to please and chase his own dreams. 

Peter stood in front of the doors almost fearing the marble touch, even so far away he was afraid to be heard once again and dragged down to the icy shadows of his room. Peter used to love and be loved around the halls of the Royal Palace but after his father passing, leaving him and his mother with a kingdom to rule, he had to make a choice. 

Or rather a choice was made for him. 

Continue to please the Gods above their sky orsuccumb to the fall out of destruction and see his people perish. 

The Hight Priest of the Kingdom always remind him of his duties— stretching as far as going to the temple to see Peter follow the rituals. 

Bath in the basking light, the sun greeting from afar and tainting his skin with heat and colors as the crystal roof, door and windows left him naked body and soul to their God. Man of Iron. 

Peter loathed with raging fire the times priest Beck would walk by his side and stay at the doors of the temple, forbidding anyone to come close, leaving Peter at his mercy. 

The man hadn’t had the courage to touch him, not yet. But Peter could see it in his eyes. The longing desires nesting in his eyes were neither soothing nor flattering, in fact— Peter shared a sense of disgust just by being next to the Priest, however he hide his feeling within himself not wanting to upset the man. 

The rumors were enough to brake his thoughts and back away his impulsive behavior. 

The rumors of punishment and torture. 

Peter walked in and smiled to himself, although his mind was crowded with gloom thought, the mere sight of the temple always painted an easy twist on his lips. The open room was beautiful. 

Long pristine pillars with inscriptions of his family values on their tops. Wide oval roof extending miles and miles over his head full of sea glass and crystals and the always lukewarm pool of clean water. 

Peter waited for the sun until it hit the room creating a halo of colors around his body. Rainbows of love printed in every inch of his skin and his clothing were present the longer his stayed on the ground and his eyes lighted up in life when it was visible to him the figure of a man he had never seen but had always had livid in his mind. 

A man of Iron. A God. Their God. 

_ His .  _

Peter could forget everything, and everyone once he stood foot inside the temple, in the safety of it warm waters and scorching heat in late afternoons. 

Peter could forget. 

Forget the fear and the hunger. His people were dying from lack of food and starvation but it was nothing else for him to do. Nations would not accept him as an heir for being so young, so inexperienced. His people were suffering and Peter could only pray to someone he didn’t believe in to save them. 

Maybe he was indeed a bad King. Or he was not a king at all. 

War had been ruthless. Taking with it so many good people, so much of their wealth and thousand of their tears, including his own as he said goodbye to his Father and the heavy crown was denied its rightful place above his shoulders. 

Peter prayed more than ever. 

Peter prayed for help, for a sign, for salvation. However, what he got were demands from the Capital and the creeping eyes of one High Priest. 

He moved carefully until he reached the edge of the pool. The water was welcoming like a hug to his broken heart and without removing his clothes, he sank deeper within making bubbles that floated up and free. Peter could see the shiny iridescent lines under his lashes and the deceiving lights in opaline. 

His prayers were no use to the God above him so maybe his life would be worth taking in exchange for his people, his City, his Kingdom. 

_Your life is not worth taking. It’s worth saving._

An echo of an enveloping voice embraced him before he closed his eyes and took few last breaths.

* * *

He looked down at the body at his feet. Swaying idly on the water. His long rope hugged him like a second skin leaving traces of his body for his eyes only; his limbs spread and taking room on his pool, his pale face slowing draining from color and warmth and his chocolate brown curls winding away forming a halo of pure innocence. 

Close to his grasp, he took the boy out of the water and cleaned his face of roaming wetness, still in a strong grip he had him in his arms as his bride and touched him lightly to awake him. 

Peter roared in fear and gasped for air, his lungs were burning, his chest was crying and his heart beat angrily refusing to be taken down once more. 

_Breath in, child. You’re safe._

The voice was back but now Peter could place it and even attached a face to go along with. A beautiful face. A strong jaw and long lashes surrounded by expressive eyes that were looking at him with purpose and curiosity. 

Peter found himself in the embrace of a known figure he always thought was a lie told by priest to rule above them. 

_ It’s not all lies, child.  _

Peter was caught in this own shock and impression when a rather violent tremble cocoon his body. He was alive. He was still alive. 

Peter started crying. 

The God for the first time in long years of existing found himself not sure of how to proceed. He had save his human, his worshiper, his churchgoer and he felt glad about it— it had been a while since anyone shown such conviction for him even in fear and disconcerting times. 

_ No. No. No, don’t fret, child. You’re save. You are with him.  _

“Yes! I’m here with you.” Peter forgo the obvious mystery of how the man could be heard in his head to answer almost petulant in his turmoil. “I am still here and so are the men born to hurt my people. As long as I am still here my people will suffer.” 

_ No, child. The people will suffer greater pain than ever for your departure.  _

The God place two fingers on Peter’s forehead and showed him their future. 

He could see them with such clarity it torn his heart. The dry lands, the lack of music and laughter. The always deserted roads and the gloomy clothes on his people. 

There were no smiles, no happiness, no joy. He had taken them all with himself with his last breath. 

Peter sobbed feeling lost. 

There was nothing for him to do now. He could not stay alive and he could not die; his people would suffer either way. Suffer from vile men who crave power or suffer from grief and sorrow. 

_ Not all is lost, child. _ The God caressed his plump cheeks leaving behind any trace of sadness.  _ You can rule them all. You will rule them all.  _

The Man of Iron had seen it all. He had always watched. Day and night from all realms seeking peace and love, but all humans gave him were headaches and phantom pains in his joints. All but one kind soul who searched for him in the same need he sought and craved. 

The Young Peter, son of the King’s consort and rightful Queen of the Lands of York. 

A soul so pure willing to sacrifice himself in other to save his kind. 

The boy questioned why would people accepted him now? He had never been worthy before so the God’s words had no meaning to him. But what Peter didn’t know was that The God was the reason why the authority of the family was put in doubt from the start. 

It was a long tale told so many times it lost his basic thought but the lessons were the same. They all loved and worship their God and so the God would reveal himself in flesh and bone, or blood and gold to bless the land and all its people. Albeit, in centuries past, the God grew more distant and silent as the people began to loved their Kings and Queens far more. 

And soon the God forgot its people making unholy extended lines of wealthy families, ungrateful blood and greedy minds. 

But now, the old costume would comeback. As Peter walked out the temple by his hand, with his clothes drenched, forming a trail of never ending water, nurturing the land. 

The people stopped at the sight of the boy glowing in golden light. Petrified as they saw the personification of their God, flesh and bone like the ancient says roaming their homeland and reassuring Peter’s right to Rule. 

The doors opened at the Palace entrance with the crowd following close behind. The priestess in charge of daily prayers stated in disbelief and others went to fetch the Higher Priest. 

As soon as Peter saw him, he spoke loud and clear, oddly comforted by the touch of the linked fingers of the God next to his. 

“From this day on, you can all witness as , I, Peter, son of King and Queen of the land of York, take my sit on the throne. Ruler of this realm.” The Higher Priest tried to be an obstacle, calling for help in screams of blasphemy and lies, however their God was able to stopped it all with one twist of his wrist. 

The dry sound of a neck being split echoed in the halls of the Palace.

And after a defeating silence... Cheers were heard. 

* * *

They never saw their God again. 

Peter took his place as ruler of his kingdom as rumors fueled faster than fire into mouth and mouth across the land. By nighttime the silhouette of their God was once again gone, but this time, he would not be forgotten. He would be loved and needed and cherished as we wanted to be for all he had done for them. 

Giving them love and peace. 

Yes, they never saw him again but Peter could still hear his voice. 


End file.
